


Tea, Please

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [64]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Barista Castiel, Clumsy Dean, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was a tea drinker, so by all accounts, it didn’t make sense that he so often frequented a tiny coffee shop that specialized in just coffee and had a poor sampling of only two types of tea. </p><p>The reason, though, had nothing to do with the drink selection and everything to do with the man behind the counter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea, Please

**Author's Note:**

> For @justsomerealbullshit who requested: “Barista!Cas and customer!Dean fic where Dean comes to the coffee shop everyday because the hot Barista always writes flirty messages on his cup.”

Contrary to popular belief, Dean was not a big coffee drinker. Growing up, he’d rolled his eyes at his friends’ caffeine addictions while he simply sipped away at his tea, just like his mom. It was hardly a ‘manly’ drink, but through his job engineering and designing cars, he’d spent time in Japan drinking tea nearly every day. Since then, he’d tried many different types, and every time an ignorant friend stumbled upon the stockpile of tea in his apartment, he wouldn’t hesitate to joke and call himself a tea snob.

So, by all accounts, it didn’t make sense that Dean so often frequented a tiny coffee shop that specialized in just that–-coffee-–and had a poor sampling of only two types of black tea–-caffeinated or decaffeinated. The reason, though, had nothing to do with the drink selection and everything to do with the man behind the counter. 

Dean had first visited the place during the cold months of winter, when he’d been walking home and found himself desperate for warmth. The coffee shop had appeared much like its name–Saving Grace–and he veered into it to discover that A) they didn’t have any good tea, although they did have pie; and B) the barista was undeniably the hottest man Dean had ever seen in real life.

If Dean was a poet, he’d wax about the blue of the man’s eyes, or the refined chiseling of his jaw, or even his artful stubble and tousled hair. But Dean wasn’t a poet, and so he’d simply stared. Luckily, no one noticed, at least not at first, since he was third in line. But as the two customers before him ordered and had their drinks delivered, the barista himself–-Cas, as per his nametag–-met Dean’s fixed gaze and pointedly winked.

Dean’s response was to ever so smoothly choke on nothing and nearly hightail it out of there. But the previous customers got in the way of that plan as they maneuvered between him and the door, and to make room, he stepped up to the counter.

“What can I get for you?” Cas asked, his voice low and silky.

Dean glanced behind him, but no one was there. “Uh, you mean me?”

“You’re the only one here,” Cas said, his lips twitching.

Dean’s brain went off-line at the barista’s beautiful eyes right there in front of him. “Yeah. Right. I’ll um. Have. Uh. Coffee? Do you have coffee?”

“We do have lots of coffee,” Cas said, amused. “We are in fact a coffee shop, as our sign says.”

Dean mentally smacked himself. “Well, yeah, but I mean do you have…beans?”

“Beans?”

“Coffee…beans? No wait, those frappa-somethings? Mocha-something? Lattes?”

Cas was full-out grinning now. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to order, sir.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. “Tea. Do you have any tea?”

“Sure. Lipton. Caffeinated or decaffeinated?”

“Decaf. Don’t want to be up all night.”

“Of course,” Cas said, and Dean finally peeped open his eyes as Cas left to retrieve his order. 

Could he have looked more like an idiot? Not for the first time, he’d wished real life came with an undo button. Dean felt the urge to apologize, but by the time he’d worked out what he wanted to say, more customers blustered in, and Cas handed him his tea in a to-go cup before helping the next person in line. 

It wasn’t until Dean left and was sipping idly at his frankly _blah_  tea that he noticed handwriting on the side of his cup. 

_You’re awfully cute when you’re embarrassed. -Cas_

Dean grinned at the words. This was a flirtation. Cas was _flirting_ with him. He hadn’t been turned off by Dean’s nonsense. 

The realization put a skip in his step, and Dean determined to visit Saving Grace more often.

Several weeks later, and he’d worked up a pretty solid relationship with Cas. And by relationship, he meant quick, casual conversation on his side, and flirtations via cup on the other.  

God, he was pathetic. Dean had even saved all of his cups--Cas had scrawled doodles on some when he had more time, while others bore only one-word terms of endearment. On one, he’d even written a little poem. 

But no matter Cas’s efforts, Dean had barely been able to move past small-talk. Part of it was that his schedule didn’t allow him to drop by away from peak hours, so Cas was usually too busy with other customers to talk much. But the other part was Dean’s complete lack of knowing where to start and just generally acting like an idiot. For Pete’s sake, he kept ordering _tea_  in a special _coffee_  shop. 

And that’s when Dean had an epiphany. Maybe he could start liking coffee.

With this plan in mind, Dean entered Saving Grace like any other day. He was pleased that he was the only one there aside from Cas, who was wiping down the counter. 

Cas smiled when he saw him and set the rag aside. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean swallowed. He couldn’t mess this up. “So…I got a question for you.”

Cas’s smile widened to show off his gums. “Yes, Dean. I’d love to go out with you.”

Dean froze. His brain short-circuited. “I…What?”

Cas’s face fell. “Oh. I’m so…I didn’t mean-–”

“You’d go out with me?” Dean interrupted.

Cas blinked at him. “Of course. I don’t write on _everyone’s_ cups like that.”

“Ah. Yeah. Makes sense.” Dean continued to babble when he finally processed Cas’s words and stopped. Cas wanted to go out with him. Like on a _date_. Like, restaurant and a movie, hand-holding, kissing on the front steps kind of date. 

Dean beamed. “Awesome. Yeah. Let’s do it. I mean, not _it_  unless you want to, but not on the first date or anything because I don’t do that, well, not usually but-–”

“Dean?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Here’s my number.” Cas grabbed a cup and scribbled his digits. “Text me the details and I’ll get back to you when I’m not working.”

“Okay.” Dean couldn’t stop smiling. He turned to the door.

“And Dean?”

Dean paused and glanced back. “Yeah?”

“What was your actual question?”

“Oh, I was going to see if you could get me to like coffee, but don’t worry about it now. I hate the stuff.”

That had Cas throwing his head back and laughing. 

Dean shot finger-guns at him and left, tripping on the way out. 

It only occurred to him as he was blowing down the sidewalk that he had forgotten to order his usual tea. 

Oh well. At least he had a date. He whistled all the way home, where he brewed himself a nice cup to celebrate.


End file.
